


When The Sharpest Words Wanna Cut Me Down (I’m Gonna Send A Flood, Gonna Drown ‘Em Out)

by Angel_made_of_scars



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Destructive Behavior, M/M, Please read notes!, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_made_of_scars/pseuds/Angel_made_of_scars
Summary: Connor consoles Hank when he begins to be self destructive once again.





	When The Sharpest Words Wanna Cut Me Down (I’m Gonna Send A Flood, Gonna Drown ‘Em Out)

**Author's Note:**

> HEY YOU! WAIT! PLEASE READ THIS!
> 
> If you’re triggered by mentions of anorexia behavior, self hate, depression, or suicidal thoughts, maybe you shouldn’t read. Hank in this story is very mean to himself, and even though there’s no direct or explicit “self-harm” there is behaviors pointing to that, such as not eating or speaking.
> 
> Please take caution friends! I wrote this actually to CHEER MYSELF UP, (more on that in the bottom notes) and it helped so much, but if you think there’s even a slight chance this could harm you mentally, please don’t risk it. Love you all. <3

Hank woke up after a night of binge drinking feeling hungover, but that was normal. He trudged to the bathroom, same as always, and happened to stare at the note on the bathroom mirror, along with his multiple notes.

_Don’t forget to brush and floss!_

He did neither. He didn’t straighten his hair or shower. He just used the bathroom and walked out. Connor was waiting at the counter, cooking eggs. Hank grimaced.

“I thought you might like something light to eat, after last night.” Connor said cheerily. He didn’t bring up the screaming at him, or the way he had locked the bedroom door on him. It was too much.

“I can’t eat right now. Maybe later.” Hank said quietly.

Instead of sitting, he went back to the bedroom, and put on semi decent clothes. They weren’t clean but they didn’t smell. By the time he had come back out, Connor had stored away the mess, like he was going to heat up a scrambled egg at a later date, under any circumstances.

He grabbed his jacket and opened the door, and Connor followed. He gave him a smile, but when Hank just looked away, he did too. He didn’t speak, but his light flashed.

* * *

Connor had given him space, only asking necessary questions. But around lunch time he spoke up.

“We should get something to eat.” Connor said. As if he could eat.

Actually, maybe he could. Kid androids could eat. And he had every feature. He was a top model. Still, Hanks stomach seized. He turned away but that wasn’t enough. He stood and held up his hand to tell Connor to stay, before rushing to the bathrooms.

He couldn’t even throw up. Nothing came out. He just heaved and realized he pissed out the alcohol earlier. It was pure anxiety making him sick. Finally he stood on shaky legs, and made his way back to his desk. Connor was waiting, his LED red. It made Hank almost run back.

“Are you alright? Do you need analyses of your saliva to test for illness?” Connor asked, reaching out towards his hip to provide some comfort. Hank shrugged, and brushed him off. He couldn’t even come up with a verbal answer as simple as “no”. He wanted Connor to kiss him, but... no. Connor went back to being silent.

* * *

As soon as their shifts were over, Connor mentioned food once again. But not a salad, or his meal plan sandwiches, or something fresh.

“Why don’t we go to the chicken feed truck? The one you enjoy? I’ll take us there. You should rest your eyes on the way. You look tired.” Connor said, smiling gently.

The worry was heavy in his voice by now, but Hank didn’t say anything. Even though he hadn’t said more than a couple of sentences that day, and even though the last thing he wanted was food, he just couldn’t. They got in the car, and Hank purposefully kept his eyes open. It’s what he deserved.

He didn’t register the time, but as they pulled to a stop, he realized they were already there, and they were the only ones. He got out numbly, and Connor waited for his trudging steps before walking slowly in sync with him to the counter.

“Usual.” Hank mumbled. Connor smiled a bit. But then the man looked to Connor, who Hank saw out of the corner of his eye give the man a look. He just nodded and handed over the food. Hank realized he must have known they were coming, as it was already made. Son of a bitch must have texted his burger guy remotely.

“We should sit. Your body is probably weak, after not eating all day. I thought you could use the calories from here.” Connor said. Hank just shook his head and walked to a standing table, putting his food down in front of him.

It had been too long like this. He knew it had. He was going into a hole again. He had tried once... he couldn’t. But it’s not like he wasn’t starting to try again. He knew it. He couldn’t do this. Connor didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve- he didn’t- he-

“Lieutenant!” Connor shouted, rushing to his side. He swayed, and Connor eased him forward, and onto a bench. He wasn’t sure why. His mind was a bit fuzzy.

“What?” He managed.

“Your nose is bleeding. And you started to sway, like you may faint. Hank, you’ve been acting unwell for over two weeks. You told me to stay and keep working yesterday while you went to get lunch. I have to ask now, did you eat? I know you didn’t want breakfast yesterday or today, and last night you ate nothing for dinner.” Connor listed. Hank couldn’t take it.

“It’s what I deserve.” He said quietly. Connor light flashed, and there was a beat of silence.

“I don’t understand.” Connor said. The dam broke.

“I don’t deserve it Connor! I don’t deserve healthy food to extend my life! I don’t deserve sleep in that fucking soft bed you ordered with your first equal rights salary! Your salary! I don’t deserve your cooking, or cleaning, or partnership! I don’t... I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve-” Hank cut off as ugly shivers and sobs started to wrack his body.

He heard the cook shut his metal curtain to give them privacy, before strong arms were enveloping him. He was being pulling into Connors chest with force, and instead of fighting, he gave in, feeling Connors breath hitch.

“I don’t know what puts thoughts like this in people’s heads. It’s never happened to me. I’ve thought I could do better, and had doubts. But never to an extreme.” Connor started. Hank stayed silent, save for the tears.

“Then I met you, and you had these thoughts, and destructive tendencies, and it was because of your undiagnosed PTSD and depression. I know you have suicidal thoughts Hank. You’ve told me.” Connor said, his body shuddering. Hank looked up, and realized with absolute horror and such smothering guilt that it almost made him choke; Connor was beginning to cry.

“What-”

“You told me last night.” Connor said. And Hank sucked in a breath.

_“If you weren’t around here so damn much, I could have offed myself already!”_

“You are not like I was.” Connor said sternly. Hank looked at him questioningly.

“You’re not- a damn machine, Hank!” Connor yelled, suddenly standing. The arms around him left, and it made him shiver. He sat up on the bench to look at the figure towering over him.

“You are not a senseless, emotionless being! You have internal struggle. You have depression! That does not make you unworthy of anything. Of food to keep you alive, or a soft bed that we share, that I purchased for both of our comfort.” Connor started, swinging his arms.

“It does not take away your right to friends, and joy, and pictures where you smile, just because you may look at it again the next day without that smile. You think, and I know you do, because you told me this as well. You think, what’s the point of even trying to be happy if I’ll be sad tomorrow? And the point is... that you may be sad tomorrow. So be happy while you can. Take care of yourself, because...” Connor stopped, finally dropping to his knees in front of Hank.

“Because, just because you’re body is betraying you, and your mind is telling you you’re not good enough, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love in that moment.” Connor breathed, taking his hands. Hank choked on a sob before sobering.

“I-I’ve been a sack of shit to you-”

“And that isn’t right. But I’m willing to forgive you, and help you, and love you. I do love you Hank. You know that. So please let yourself feel that. Feel that you are loved by at least one person. On the days it is not yourself that’s loving, and on the days it is, I am still there, loving you.” Connor said desperately. Hank finally nodded.

“You deserve to love me too.” Connor added, bringing more tears down both their faces.

“I-I do. I love you Connor. It’s just hard.” Hank said between sniffles.

“Then let me help you carry the burden.” Connor said, standing up from the ground a bit and hugging him. He sat down, so he could hold Hank again, and Hank nuzzled in gratefully. Connor was heating his system, he knew. And he let himself be warmed by it.

“Hank... from the knowledge I have, I know it’s a sensitive question. But can I find you a therapist and additionally a doctor to speak to? It may help. A doctor could prescribe something to help. I could even go with you. Whenever you need me.” Connor said quietly. Hank swallowed against the lump of snot in his throat.

“I guess so.” He said quietly. Connor nodded, starting to rub his arms.

“I’m going to take that burger back home with us, and heat up a can of soup instead. You need something in your body so your blood sugar won’t drop so low you faint.” Connor said. Hank nodded. He could accept some broth and noodles.

“Thank you.” He said simply. At Connors barely noticeable protective tightening of his arms around him, Hank cleared his throat.

“Connor... are you alright? I didn’t remember what I said last night. I didn’t... I don’t think I meant it. I’m low but I don’t think I’m that low.” Hank said. Connor seemed to physically release tension as he breathed out.

“I will be. As long as you’re safe. And as long as I’m allowed to love you, Hank. I will be alright. You’re all I know. I just can’t imagine losing you.” Connor said, burying his head in Hanks shoulder. Hank sat up and hugged him back.

“I’m so sorry Connor.” Hank whispered.

“It’s alright. We can only move forward from here.” Connor said quietly, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s go home, Hank.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a bad headspace two days ago. I really slipped a bit, due to my brain being infected, and I just had a depressive episode. It was nothing serious, I just... cried, and kept thinking I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve good things. I wrote this, I got some sleep, and I woke up feeling perfectly fine again.
> 
> That’s just the reality of depression, for me at least. You can finally beat it after years struggling, and one day, or week, or month you spiral. Then you’re fine again, because your meds kick in, or you go to therapy, or you just plain cheer up. It’s sloppy and awful sometimes, but it does get easier, and it does get better, and there are always people who love you. I promise.


End file.
